


Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo fanfiction fills 2019 [48]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Loneliness, Romance, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21896911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: AU. A moisture farmer on Tattooine keeps to himself.***KINDA SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER***
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: hc_bingo fanfiction fills 2019 [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1377172
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere

The farm is quiet.  
  
Quiet and lonely, and that is exactly what he wants.  
  
The equipment is old, but it still works well enough that he can make some decent use of it. He has only himself to support, which means that he has no need for vast amounts of money; there is so little on this planet, little more than sand and people, and so there isn’t much to spend it on but the necessities. He has what he needs, no more, no less; and that is what he wants.  
  
The people of Tattooine are cordial but distant for the most part. At first there is some mild interest at the fact that he has taken over this long-abandoned moisture farm that once belonged to the Skywalker family, but most don’t ask questions. Whether they don’t care, or whether they draw their own conclusions, it doesn’t especially matter to him: He makes it clear that he wants to be left alone and they leave him alone, and that’s what he wants.  
  
There are two droids in the farm: A3-Z9 and CO-88, dusty things that require some repairs before they can be of any use. They don’t speak- they can, for the sake of clarity if he needs them to, but they have little need to. He doesn’t speak to them, and they rarely initiate any conversation beyond what is strictly necessary. They help with the farm, and that’s what he wants.  
  
The days tick by, and he barely takes notice of their passing. He stays alone in the dry, hot desert and does his farming and minds his business, because that is what he wants; he keeps others at arms length even when the boredom threatens to drive him mad, even when the loneliness threatens to overwhelm him, even when the dreams of blood and death and rage threaten to break him.  
  
Because this is what he deserves.  
  
If anyone in town were to find out who he is, what he’s done- they would do worse than ostracize him. They would kill him.  
  
It’s a miracle the Resistance hadn’t: He remembers the glares that burned into his back, into his own eyes, furious and heartbroken and disgusted- and he had deserved every single one of them, deserved every ounce of rage that they had felt towards him. _Why is he here?_ He heard them whisper. _Why are we not killing the sonofabitch?_  
_  
He was Leia’s son._  
_  
Leia’s not here, and he’s the reason why._  
  
They froze him out, ignored him at best and hissed angry words at him at worst, desiring vengeance for dead loved ones but not being able to for the sake of one small, sun-kissed, white-clad reason that had pled his case. In the end he had left because it is easier to be in exile among strangers than it is to be in exile amongst the people his mother had called her own.  
  
The people that, up until quite recently, had vowed to destroy him.  
_  
Maybe I should have let them_ , he wonders in the night when he wakes up from the nightmares that torment him. _Maybe I should have done it myself._  
  
But survival is an instinct, the primary one for any human, and so he endures without purpose or verve.  
  
He traps himself on this planet, this farm of sand and sadness and memories, and does it because he knows it’s what he deserves: To be lonely and bored and without much of anything in a place that epitomizes the greatest tragedies in his ancestry. He does not deserve to escape the misery of this place; it is in his bones.  
  
One day, no more or less different than any other at first glance, he is doing some minor repairs to one of the droids. It requires his full attention, and so he does not hear the footsteps (not that he would, when everything is covered in sand), nor does he hear the soft rap on the doorframe. He is so unaccustomed to visitors that he has lost his old instincts for knowing when someone else is nearby.  
  
“Well,” comes a familiar voice. “This place is… Empty.”  
  
He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to assess if the voice he’s hearing is coming from across space and time vis-à-vis the Force, or if it is coming from directly behind him. After a moment, he decides to just turn and look.  
  
She stands at the doorway leading to the yard, leaning against the frame and looking at him with soft eyes. Her hair is down, like it was the night that she had surrendered to him on the _Supremacy._ She is beautiful, a glimmer of the past that is not entirely miserable. Still he swallows thickly, heart racing: At this point, it’s been a while since he’s seen anyone who actually _knows_ him, knows his sins and his crimes as well as he does. She doesn’t look like she’s here for a fight, but the mere knowledge that she would have good cause to start one is enough to set his nerves on fire.  
  
“You don’t strike me as the farmer type,” She says, when he fails to respond to her first observation.  
  
He licks his lips, hesitates. “Did Luke?”  
  
Her mouth splits into a wide grin. “Not even a little.”  
  
He’s almost a little dizzy from the sight of her. “Why are you here?”  
  
She cocks her head to the side, observes him with those warm, kind eyes and says, “I missed you.”  
  
He huffs a disbelieving little laugh, shakes his head even as she frowns. “What’s there to miss?”  
  
Now she looks sad. “Oh, Ben.”  
  
He shuts his eyes: It’s rare to hear that name spoken by anyone who knows him now. He doesn’t hear her move, but he does feel her fingers brushing his cheek, coming up to slide through his hair. When he opens his eyes again, she is standing so close to him, close enough that he could wrap his arms around her waist, press his face into her hair and hold her for a time. The more he thinks about it, the more his arms ache to do it. But he does not deserve it, so he keeps them at his sides. But she curls her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest and squeezing him tightly, and his resolve is further tested.  
  
“Rey,” He whispers. It feels so right to have her here, even though he would never ask her to come, even though he doesn’t deserve it.  
  
She looks up at him again, and leans up towards him.  
  
The kiss is what breaks him, what makes him finally settle his hands on her waist and pull her in close. He has forced himself not to think of her for all the time he’s been here, if only because she is the one person that could entice him from this exile, the one person capable of making him believe that he deserves more than he does.  
  
When they part, she smiles up at him; and he, for the first time in months, smiles back.  
  
“I’m glad you’re here,” He whispers, thumbs stroking her sides as he holds her by the waist.  
  
“I’m glad we’re both here,” She responds, and then kisses him again.  
  
It is not what he deserves.  
  
But it is so very, very _badly_ what he wants.  
  
-End


End file.
